Sweet Cyanide
by xxPunkRockxx
Summary: You're going to hell. ...I'll see you there.


**- Sweet Cyanide -**

_"It's like you're a drug. It's like you're a demon I can't face down._**  
**

_It's like you're a leech, sucking the life from me."  
_

- Kelly Clarkson, **Addicted**

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my writing.

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"You're disgusting," Namie commented to her boss apathetically, paying attention to her work rather than him. Izaya had been spinning in his chair for the past ten or so minutes, twisting Celty's head around in his hands and singing softly.

"Oh Namie, don't be jealous. It's not a flattering look for you."

Namie snorted and leaned on her hand, focusing on the papers in front of her eyes. Izaya's singing had ceased, but the severed head remained in his hands like a toy.

"Isn't it funny," Izaya began, his voice something akin to malice, "that every male in your life prefers a disembodied head to you?"

Namie twitched, the pen in her hand cracking slightly as her grasp severely tightened on it.

"Isn't it funny that all of your _precious humans _loathe you?" She retorted, knowing Izaya would not be phased in the slightest by her comment, but irritated by his mockery nonetheless.

"Now, now Namie," Izaya chided, setting Celty's head back in its place on a shelf near his desk and slinking over to her. From under her bangs she could see his slender torso as he seated himself on the edge of her desk. "There's no need to be bitter."

Namie chose to ignore the man before her, who was being immature and irritating as always. Izaya had a manner about him that could make even the cheeriest of people want to shove a lead pipe down his throat.

"Na - mi - e," Izaya sung out, pronouncing each syllable separately as his fingers began to twirl a strand of her hair. "Humor me."

Demanding, as always. Namie had grown accustomed to Izaya going from being an expertly manipulative businessman to a idle child within minutes. It was a horrible habit of his, and Namie had begun to regret taking her position; if she recalled correctly, babysitting had not been part of the deal.

"And just what do you expect me to do?"

The brunette stretched his arms over his head before letting them fall back down.

"Think of something Namie. You're a smart girl."

Izaya was...hell on earth. The physical representation of the devil or one of his highest underlings. Then again, Orihara Izaya, and underling?

He would be repulsed by the idea. Namie rather reveled in it.

"I don't know," Namie replied in a short tone, focusing on the work she still had to complete. "What, do you want lunch?"

"Eh." The twenty-three-year-old was being difficult. Namie had met preschool children more cooperative.

"Then what?" Namie looked up at him, casting him a nasty glare. Izaya merely smirked in response, unperturbed by the hatred and sadism glinting in her eyes.

Izaya was messing with one of the papers on her desk, and casually tossed it away from the piece of furniture it belonged on. Namie felt a sudden rage burn within her, waiting for her boss to continue his streak of infuriating gestures and comments.

"Come here," he demanded, standing up and holding out his hand. Namie looked at it and felt her nose wrinkle, as if he had just asked her to put her hand down his pants rather than just take his. The brunette stood up and ambled over to him, but refused to come into contact with the informant.

Izaya sighed.

"Why must you be so difficult, Namie-chan? This shouldn't be as hard as you make it."

Namie rolled her eyes and stood stiffly beside him, waiting for whatever the hell was coming her way. Izaya held out his hand a second time.

Resisting the urge to slap it away, Namie hesitantly reached out and placed her fingertips on his, expecting the worst. Aside from his hand being slightly on the cold side, there was really nothing wrong about it.

The man's hand took hers further, and without warning Izaya yanked hard on her arm. Namie stumbled forward, ending up with her free hand on his shoulder and leaning up against him helplessly.

"What the hell...?"

"Dance with me."

As the words left his mouth, the informant began to spin her around the room, slightly against her will. Namie only followed to keep from being dragged.

"Izaya...!"

He ignored her, as was to be expected, and laughed to himself while he pulled her around the room in eccentric patterns. The pace and constant rotation was making her feel slightly ill.

After a few minutes, he stopped in the middle of the room and had her fall back over his arm before pulling her up to him. Their proximity...too close...

"Izaya..."

Namie found herself growling wearily at her employer, who merely smiled mischievously back at her. A moment later he had leaned forward and delicately pressed his lips to the tip of her nose.

Namie shoved him away, repulsed, and watched as Izaya spun back to his desk laughing relentlessly. Once it was clear that his antics were over, Namie slunk back to her desk and plopped down in the chair, focusing on her work once more.

"Are you _blushing_, Namie?" Izaya inquired, a childish air about his tone. Namie shot him a quick glare that indicated her longing for silence, but Izaya continued their one-sided conversation.

"That's cute; I never knew you had interest in me. Then again, I _am _a better choice than your beloved Seiji."

"Don't flatter yourself," Namie snapped venomously. "There's no way in hell you'd _ever _be better than Seiji."

"Hn. So you _do _have interest in me, do you? Namie-chan, I'm so flattered!"

"What the hell are you talking about? Of course I don't," Namie bit back, avoiding eye-contact with her boss. Looking at him would only make the situation worse.

Izaya sighed and spun around in his chair, stopping and placing his feet up on his desk.

"Don't be like that Namie. Maybe I like you too."

A thud echoed through the office as Namie slammed her fist down on her desk. _This_. This was what drove her nuts about Izaya; the stupidity, the immaturity, the amount of idle time the man managed to find within his work day.

Not to mention the fact that all his idle time became _her _responsibility to take control of.

"I would prefer you didn't," Namie grumbled, bending further over her desk to try and block Izaya out.

Izaya heaved a dramatic sigh and stood up, sauntering up behind her and looping his arms around her shoulders, grinning when he felt his secretary stiffen at his touch.

"Namie~"

"Quit touching me."

Izaya ignored the older woman, burying his face into her hair and smiling. Namie felt a strong urge to shoot her fist back behind her and sock him in the face, or at least make a decent attempt to.

It was sad to say she had built up a tolerance to the man cuddling into her, but after so much time putting up with the informant, all the erratic behaviors and abrupt decisions he exercised had become routine.

"Izaya, let go," Namie stated more firmly, which only caused her boss' grip to tighten as he breathed into her ear.

"Na - mi - e~" He sang joyously, kissing her jaw and pressing his face into her neck. "Am I not allowed to be human now? I do believe I am allowed to have feelings."

"Your feelings are comprised of nothing more than boredom and theatrics."

"Are they?"

As the words fell from his mouth, he turned her to face him, and for once she found herself unnerved by those red eyes. His breath fell lightly on her check, and every thought had left her mind.

His phone rang.

It was a Godsend, really. Namie watched Izaya turn to look at his desk where his phone sat, buzzing atop the wooden surface. He stayed there, arms looped around her shoulders, watching the small boxy item vibrate.

"You should probably answer that," Namie advised, turning back to her work. Her words sounded like a legitimate suggestion; in reality, they were her best shot at getting him away from her.

"Meh."

Izaya tightened his grip and turned back to her.

"If it was important, they'll call back."

With that, he was back to clinging to her, nuzzling her face and pressing kisses to her check and neck.

"Maybe there is a God, if you exist."

"Even so, you'll be going to hell," Namie shot at him, feeling his fingers curve under her chin and turn her face, even as her gaze focused on the desktop in front of her.

Namie stiffened and let her gaze follow the direction her head faced, meeting a pair of closed eyes.

He was kissing her. That little shit was kissing her.

Izaya pulled a way, a proud smirk stretched across that trolling face.

"I'll see you there."

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**o3o**

**I really happen to like Izaya and Namie - they're two of the characters in DRRR! I don't mind seeing together.  
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**Not to mention Izaya acting like an annoying child is always funny to read, and even more fun to write.  
**

**Hopefully you enjoy~  
**

**Review? x)  
**


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